


Cinnamon

by Emmasinthebooknow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Recently started dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmasinthebooknow/pseuds/Emmasinthebooknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian's doing something at the diner, and he doesn't want Emma to know....and he's <i>blushing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinnamon

When Killian sees her walk into Granny's, he looks startled, and quickly shoves something small and shiny beneath the table.

"What are you doing?" Emma asks. 

He looks up from his seat in the booth, attempting to steady his wobbling mug of hot chocolate. There's an odd, vulnerable look in his eyes, which almost could be....embarassment? 

Then, just as fast, he's normal Killian again, flashing her a big smile. "Nothing, you're just so early! Morning, love!"

But out of the corner of her eye, Emma can see that he's still holding a small, shiny object under the table. And slipping it up his sleeve.

"You sure?" She slides into the booth.

His cheeks look pink. But he couldn't possibly be blushing. She has never once seen her pirate _blush._ (And really, she would have guessed it was impossible for anything in the world to make this man blush.)

"All's well!" He takes an enormous, comically large sip of his hot chocolate.

Just then, Granny swings by their table. "I hope you're not planning on walking out with that," she says to Killian with a reproving glare, and then keeps right on walking.

Killian's ears turn pink. Emma leans forward, to ask him in a low voice what she's talking about - and that's when she smells it.

It is unmistakeable. The rich, cozy smell of cinnamon. She looks down, and sees the flecks of it stuck to the white mug: it's coming from his mug of hot chocolate.

Now he's blushing for real. A deep, multi-layered blush that reaches his hairline. He fiddles with the edge of a menu. All at once, she pieces together what she saw - the shape of it, the color, the movement. He was slipping a shaker of cinnamon into his sleeve. Cinnamon he was shaking onto his hot chocolate.

Emma imagines him here in the mornings, mixing the cinnamon into his hot chocolate before she arrives, so she won't see him shaking it on. She might think it was funny that he's being so secretive about it, except she does the same things. 

Ever since Neverland, she's been driving a twice-as-long route to the sheriff's station so she can drive by the docks, just on the off-chance that he might be there. Around the same time, her drink of choice became rum. Every time she's sick, even with just a cold, she eats jell-o. And even after they've kissed in the middle of the street, these things still feel like an illicit secrets - the ways in which her ordinary routines are being changed because she's thinking of him.

"Mmm, chocolate" she comments absently, like she hasn't noticed anything unusual about his mug. "I hope mine's here soon."

His smile is so grateful, so relieved. She reaches for his hand under the table, and bumps into his at the halfway point. He was reaching for hers, too.


End file.
